


Spilt Milk

by Morninglight (orphan_account)



Series: Victory from the Jaws of Defeat [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Dehumanization, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Institute Wins, Lactation Kink, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Slavery, Synths, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Morninglight
Summary: S1-01 was assigned to a salvage squad because she looked like the Director's dead wife.Arthur Maxson is the last survivor of the Brotherhood of Steel.There's no point crying over spilt milk when it tastes better in the mouth.





	Spilt Milk

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Trigger warning for death, dehumanisation, slavery, violence, fantastic racism and mentions of war crimes, torture and the deaths of minors. AU Synth!Sparrow/Arthur Maxson lactation kink one-shot.

 

The Institute had won. The Railroad lay dead in their catacombs, the Minutemen had faded away into nothingness after Quincy and not three days ago, the Brotherhood of Steel was brought crashing down to earth after a hacked robot destroyed their airship. Nothing and no one stood in the way of the scientists and their redefinition of humankind using the Commonwealth as test subjects.

            S1-01 wasn’t supposed to think about such things. Director Ayo had put her on the salvage team assigned to the Prydwen despite being a nursing synth because the new Director Nathan Finlay couldn’t stand the sight of her. Her breasts were aching from the milk in them, the sky was far too big and blue for her comfort and the salvage synths were openly wondering why they’d been saddled with her. X4-14, the Courser assigned to make sure none of them ran away, was unusually tolerant in that so long as they did their jobs, he didn’t particularly care if civilian synths gossiped or not.

            “-Apparently, and this is just gossip mind you, S1-01 looks too much like Father’s Mother for Father’s Father’s comfort,” V2-89 was saying to T1-94 as they stripped the wreckage of the airship for useful technological components. “That’s why she’s here with us.”

            “Ouch.” T1-94 actually sounded sympathetic. “Should we show her how it’s done?”

            “Father, no. Let her learn like we had to.” V2-89 was dedicated to her own survival and comfort, happy to throw another synth to the SRB if it kept her safe.

            S1-01 decided that she didn’t much like V2-89. She stood up from the shards of metal she was collecting and looked at X4-14. “I’m going to look at the ruins near the water,” she told the Courser.

            “Very well,” was the monotonous reply. “Do not go out of sight of the Prydwen.”

            So that was the airship’s name. S1-01 wondered what a Prydwen was as she headed over to the area she’d decided to search in. Maybe she’d find a whole box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes or something.

            She was so caught up in every synth’s fantasy that she didn’t notice the Brotherhood survivor until his leather-gloved hand was around her mouth and a thick arm around her waist. “Don’t move, filthy synth,” hissed the man.

            “I’m not filthy,” she mumbled against his hand. “Okay, I’m a bit dirty, but I haven’t been up here too long.”

            “What are you babbling about?” the soldier demanded, removing his hand from her mouth. From what S1-01 could see of his arms, he wore a heavy brown coat of some kind that looked disturbingly like skin. Synth processing claimed that surfacers ate dead flesh and wore the skins of other creatures. For once, they were right.

            A good synth would have started to scream, alerting the others, even though it meant her own death. S1-01 didn’t feel like being a good synth at the moment. “I’m not filthy,” she protested. “ _You’re_ filthy. You smell like dead meat and you’re wearing something else’s skin.”

            The Brotherhood soldier would probably kill her but S1-01 figured she’d go out telling him the truth.

            “Your fucking masters murdered my soldiers!” retorted the soldier, spinning her around to face him. “Your masters sent in a synth masquerading as Paladin Finlay!”

            “He’s _not_ a synth,” S1-01 told him angrily. “Father’s Father is human and he had me come up here even though I’m not a salvage synth because I look like Father’s Mother!”

            The skin-wearing man’s eyes narrowed. His hairstyle was strange – cut really short at the back and sides but left long at the top. His eyes were blue as the sky above and burned like the sun. “What do you mean?”

            “Nathan Finlay is the father of Shaun Finlay, who is Father of the synths because his DNA was used to make us,” S1-01 explained. “Father made him the new Director before he died.”

            “And you look like Nate Finlay’s dead wife?” The soldier sounded sceptical.

            “That’s what V2-89 said.” S1-01 looked up at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry about your friends. Death’s like reset, isn’t it? I had friends but they got reset.”

            “They were my brothers and sisters, the people I was sworn to lead and protect,” the soldier said, his voice cracking. He had a wicked scar arcing down the right side of his face and an uneven arched nose. “They’re dead because of your filthy Institute!”

            “The Institute isn’t filthy,” S1-01 reiterated. “It’s very clean. And smells like bleach and antiseptic.”

            He stared at her strangely and S1-01 tried to smile. She didn’t want to get hurt when she didn’t help kill the Brotherhood of Steel. “If you go now, I won’t say anything to X4-14. He’d probably kill you or transport you back to the Institute.”

            His expression shifted from sad to furious and before she could react, something came up and hit her just under the ear, sending her into darkness with a flash of pain.

…

Arthur Maxson had learned the fine art of stalking enemies during the hunt for the Shepherd, a super mutant master. He lay the female synth down with more gentleness than he expected, picked up his combat knife and sniper rifle, and went hunting for the rest of the salvage team.

            The Courser was the first to die. As the black-uniformed hunter-killer dropped, head nothing more than chunks of meat and plastic, the white-uniformed ‘salvage synths’ dropped everything and ran for their lives. Arthur was tempted to follow them, to start his solitary war against the Institute with the carnage of their unnatural creations, but he recalled the synth he’d knocked out instead of killed. She was angry he called her filthy, took nearly everything he said literally and sympathised with the death of the Brotherhood.

            Snarling, the Elder stalked back to the female. She would be a useful source of information on the Institute if he kept in mind they had a mutual enemy in Nate Finlay.

            Fine-boned with most of her height in her limbs, the synth _did_ look like the one photograph they had of Sparrow Finlay. Her chestnut-brown hair was cut short – synths were apparently forbidden to have long tresses – and her radstag-doe eyes were guileless. Arthur should have killed her once he realised she’d spotted him. But he hadn’t and now he was stuck with her.

            _Useful information,_ he reminded himself as he carried her to back to his hidey-hole. He needed a more secure base. Hell, he needed another Prydwen, Liberty Prime and Division. And Sarah Lyons. _She_ wouldn’t have gotten everyone killed through incompetence.

            Arthur choked back his grief. He needed to be hard and cold as the Steel itself. He’d already failed his soldiers. He couldn’t fail to avenge them.

            The synth woke up soon after, sitting up in the pile of rags he used as a bed. “Why did you hit me?” she asked plaintively. “I didn’t hit you.”

            “I needed to silence you before I executed the Courser,” Arthur told her flatly. “I could have just killed you instead.”

            “You killed X4-14?” she asked with wide eyes. “What about the others?”

            “I let them run away.” Arthur turned away from her. He should have killed her. “What is your designation?”

            “S1-01,” she answered softly. “What’s yours?”

            “Arthur.” Every interrogation should start on a point of civility when it involved relatively innocent civilians.

            “R4? You have a designation too?”

            “Arrr-thurrr.” He rolled the Rs in his name. “My designation was MX-001E.”

            “Okay, MX. Or do you prefer your full designation?” S1-01 tilted her head innocently.

            “I prefer Arthur.” _I can’t be called Elder anymore…_

“Why have a designation if you have a name?” Now she looked genuinely confused.

            “Because in some cases, people had the same name. It was to avoid confusion.” Arthur sighed, rubbing his nose. His mission of vengeance had gone to hell in a handbasket. He was stuck with an attractive synth who asked endless questions. He should have died with the Prydwen.

            “Okay.” S1-01 still looked confused.

            Arthur decided to change the subject. “So if you aren’t a salvage synth, what are you?”

            S1-01 lifted her chin proudly. “I’m a nursing synth.”

            “You tend to the sick?” A synth with even basic first aid skills would be useful.

            The female laughed softly. “No, not a medical synth. I’m a _nursing_ synth. I fed the babies and toddlers.”

            She unbuttoned her white tunic before Arthur could stop her, revealing the loveliest set of small, soft breasts he’d ever seen. From rose-pink nipples with a hint of lilac leaked creamy liquid that trickled down to her belly. “Can I please squeeze the milk out? I don’t have a pump and it’s hurting.”

            Arthur licked his lips. He should be disgusted by the Institute’s playing of God but instead he imagined his mouth latched onto her breasts, sucking them dry. His cock hardened as he imagined other things he could be doing with her too.

            “Beautiful,” he whispered. S1-01 was beautiful with her fine-boned features and perfect breasts. “May I suck the milk out? It will be better than squeezing it out.”

            Her face lit up. “Yes please!”

            Arthur shrugged off his battlecoat and approached S1-01, who watched him fearlessly. “Lay down please. It will be easier for us both.”

            She obeyed and he crawled over her. He should be interrogating her, not about to suck the milk from her breasts. But he lowered his lips to her nipple and latched on, sucking gently. He didn’t want to hurt her.

            When the first bit of sweet liquid jetted into his mouth, Arthur groaned in pleasure and sucked harder. Creator but he wanted this.

…

It was different when a grown man sucked on her breast instead of a baby and S1-01 decided that she liked it. Every pull of Arthur’s mouth tugged at her nipple, which made her womb tighten. Every synth knew what procreation was. They weren’t supposed to indulge in it but many did. S1-01 hadn’t but she wouldn’t mind doing so with Arthur.

            She ran a hand down the soldier’s broad back, wondering if the Institute would find them. It would be worth reset to have this experience.

            “Sweet,” Arthur mumbled against her breast once it was dry. He licked up the last few drops, beard scratching nicely against the flesh, and S1-01 sighed happily. It was no longer aching and soon, neither would the other one.

            But as he sucked on her other breast, a different ache filled her. Every pull of his mouth triggered a pulsing in her vagina that yearned for friction. Every synth masturbated. They had biological urges like humans. S1-01 slid her hand down into her pants, shocked at the moisture already between her legs. But she rubbed her clitoris and between her labia, feeling the throbbing grow tighter and faster, her womb clenching. She could feel Arthur’s erection against her thigh, which only made her rise to climax even quicker, and by the time he'd finished drinking her milk she’d orgasmed with a fist in her mouth. Synths masturbated but if they got caught, they got in trouble.

            Arthur raised his mouth from her breast, eyes glittering. “Enjoyed that?”

            “Yes,” S1-01 admitted without shame.

            The soldier smiled darkly before reaching for the hand that had been in her pants and licking the slick from her fingers. S1-01 whimpered, vagina beginning to pulse again at the soft rasp of his tongue, so much like his voice and beard. “Can we please procreate?” she asked.

            _“Yes,”_ he rasped, hands going for the complicated fastenings of his Brotherhood uniform.

            S1-01 watched a broad, scarred torso covered in body hair emerge from the uniform and rubbed her palm along it, making Arthur shudder like M7-97 had when she once touched him. She wondered briefly what happened to the synth – they took him off to Courser training and he never came back. She heard he escaped. She hoped he got far, far away.

            Arthur got out of his uniform and threw it aside to reveal a thick body, all muscled in ways that S1-01 had never seen before. Coursers were rangy, their base DNA built from Father’s Father, while synths meant for hauling and carrying were broad-shouldered and heavy-chested. But the Brotherhood soldier literally bulged with muscles under his skin, arms and thighs thick with flesh that was rock-hard. His penis looked like a synth’s, though it was thicker and had a bit of a curve to it.

            She shucked her pants and underwear. This was _so_ going to be worth reset, even if she didn’t remember it.

            The soldier kissed her harshly, tongue thrusting into her mouth as he hooked his thick arms under her knees to spread her legs wide apart. Then he thrust into her, penis breaking past a barrier she didn’t even know she had (though it explained why sliding her finger into her vagina had hurt) until their pubic hair rubbed together. It burned in a good way once the pinching pain was gone and S1-01 instinctively lifted her hips, the invasion more pleasurable than overwhelming now he was in her.

            “You _taste_ human. You _feel_ human,” Arthur rasped. “But you were made by scientists playing God-“

            S1-01 didn’t know what God was. The Institute had never taught her such a thing. But now, Arthur thick and perfect in her, wasn’t the time to ask about God. So instead she tightened her inner walls around Arthur, making him groan in an almost pained manner.

            The human set a hard pace, hips snapping almost as fast as a synth’s until S1-01 was making little moans and keens of pleasure. She dug her nails, short as they were, into his shoulders and he groaned. Words that she knew were filthy fell from his lips, praising the sweetness of her milk, the perfection of her breasts and the tightness of her cunt, which had to be her vagina. What a strange name for it.

            S1-01 orgasmed twice more before Arthur shuddered with a hoarse growl and ejaculated into her. Panting and sweaty, he collapsed on her, a warm heavy weight that was sticky – _filthy_ – in a way she decided she liked.

            “Fuck,” Arthur breathed, rolling over and bringing her to lay against him. S1-01 snuggled against him and the soldier wrapped a thick furry arm around her. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

            “Why?” S1-01 asked in some surprise. “I liked it and you did. And my breasts don’t hurt anymore.”

            “I’m human and you’re a synth,” Arthur sighed.

            “And if the Institute catches us, you’re dead and I’m reset,” she countered. “But I think it was worth it, even if I won’t remember it.”

            Something burned in Arthur’s blue eyes. “They won’t have us.”

…

S1-01 – he needed to help her choose a name like Danse had – seemed to expect that they would be captured by the Institute. Arthur, in the quiet moments between fucking her and declaring that they shouldn’t have fucked, had made a decision.

            He’d failed the Brotherhood. If he returned to the Capital Wasteland, he’d be stripped of his rank and used as a glorified stud just as S1-01 had been used as a milk-Brahmin. But if he took the initiative and found a way to destroy the Institute-

            The loss of the Prydwen and division wouldn’t be forgiven. But he would have served the Brotherhood regardless.

            Arthur pulled S1-01 up with him. “Get dressed. It’s a long walk to where we’re going.”

            “Where are we going?” she asked, reaching for her uniform. Arthur examined the reddened nipples and the trickle of cum on her inner thighs and felt another surge of lust. S1-01 had fucked as hard as he had. His back stung from the scratching of her nails.

            “I’ll tell you on the way.” Arthur pulled on his uniform and battlecoat with practiced speed. “Can you use weapons?”

            “No.” S1-01 shivered. “I was never trusted with a laser pistol.”

            “I’ll teach you on the way.” If she had the same enhanced reflexes as Danse and the Coursers did, she’d be picking it up in no time.

            Danse was probably going to shoot him first and ask questions later. That was… understandable. In speaking to S1-01, Arthur had realised the Institute had been as vicious to the synths as they were to the Commonwealth.

            If he could assemble an army of synths, he could avenge the Prydwen and they could avenge themselves.

            If he died, Danse had the savvy to keep S1-01 alive. She was fundamentally innocent, a synth built to nurse children. Arthur could still taste the sweetness of her milk and wanted more. But he didn’t dare indulge again.

            Synth was synth. Human was human. The two should never combine, even in bed.

            They walked through the night, dodging patrols of Gen-1 and Gen-2 synths, until they reached Listening Post Bravo in the early morning. This far north, the destruction of the Prydwen mightn’t have been seen. Danse was going to kill him for failing the Brotherhood of Steel.

            They found Danse repairing a set of X-01 armour, large hands moving competently over the technology, and Arthur felt a pang of grief. Through doctrinaire reflex, he’d thrown away a good friend’s loyalty. The former Paladin surely hated his guts.

            “Arthur!” Danse dropped the wrench he was using, hand going for the laser pistol that was on the tool chest. He never reached it because S1-01 actually squealed with glee and leapt on the startled synth.

            “M7-97, you’re alive!” She hugged the dark-haired man fiercely. “When they took you away for Courser training, I thought you were dead or reset.”

            Arthur’s heart twisted. He’d never thought that the synths would know each other, mourn for those reset or dead. Danse had a whole history outside of the Brotherhood of Steel that he knew nothing about.

            He took a deep breath. “I failed, Danse. The Institute hacked Liberty Prime and destroyed the Prydwen. I only survived because I was doing a test run on my power armour at the time.”

            Danse managed to disengage himself from S1-01, who looked hurt at his lack of reaction to her joy. Then he stalked over and punched Arthur so hard that he staggered back into a console.

            “Don’t hurt him, M7!” S1-01 pleaded. “He’s been nice to me!”

            Danse punched Arthur in the gut twice more before shoving him away. “Go to hell, Arthur.”

            “Please don’t hurt him.” S1-01 was now begging. “He hasn’t hurt me, M7.”

            “But he hurt me when he sent Finlay after me and then changed his fucking mind,” Danse snarled.

            “Finlay… betrayed us both,” Arthur rasped, wiping blood from his mouth. “He sent S1-01 to die because she looked like his dead wife. He now rules the Institute. He needs to be stopped.”

            Danse looked askance at the female synth. “How do you know me?”

            “We were… close,” S1-01 said softly. “But you were strong enough to be a Courser. How come Arthur is calling you Danse?”

            “Because that’s the name the Railroad gave me,” Danse replied, gentling his tone. “I don’t remember you, S1-01. I’m sorry.”

            “They reset you,” she said sadly. “I understand.”

            The former Paladin turned back to Arthur, face tight with anger. “I’m only going to hear you out because I want Finlay’s head on a platter. So start talking.”

            Arthur took a deep breath and did so. He would snatch victory from the jaws of defeat and gain vengeance for all three of them.


End file.
